


Fact and Mystery

by liraeth_archive



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 17:09:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18833035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liraeth_archive/pseuds/liraeth_archive
Summary: Originally Published: Jul 17, 2005





	Fact and Mystery

This fanfic was written in 2005 under the penname Li Raeth and is being added to AO3 for archiving purposes only.

 

Summary: Post HBP, Spoilers. Summer comes, peaceful in the aftermath of the events at Hogwarts, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione are working to figure out the locations of the remaining Horcruxes, starting with the locket and the mysterious R.A.B.

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

 _The only words that ever satisfied me as describing Nature are the terms used in fairy books, charm, spell, enchantment. They express the arbitrariness of the fact and its mystery._  – G.K. Chesterton

 

The sunlight made her scar stand out more so than usual on her tanned cheek, a pale line curving from the corner of her eye to her chin, and long-since healed over. Her eyes flickered everywhere, taking in every minute detail in the sun-drenched yard, from the squirrel in the neighbor's tree to the butterfly hovering lazily over flowers dried out from the intense July heat. She appeared at ease as she leaned against the doorframe, back to the air-conditioned house, but her shoulders were tense beneath the t-shirt she wore and her eyes never stopped moving, studying every moving thing like she used to study books.

Light footsteps on tile caused her to noticeably tense moments before a callused hand rested on her shoulder. A chin joined the hand and a pale, freckled cheek pressed against her own scarred one as loose strands of red hair tickled her ear. "See anything out there?"

She shook her head, brown curls cut short swinging slightly. "That's just it," she said, voice showing strains of fear and something else. "There's nothing. Two weeks, and not a single sign of anything has been spotted. The papers are quiet, but even the Muggles are noticing the owls flying back and forth, and you can feel the worry hanging over the entire country. Why haven't there been any attacks?" She sighed. "Something's going to happen soon, I can feel it."

"Don't worry about it until it does, then," he replied, the lightness in his voice sounding forced. "There's nothing we can do to stop it if it's coming, all we can do is be prepared." He patted her shoulder and stepped away. "Come on, close the door, you're letting hot air in. Besides," the smile this time was definitely not forced. "Harry's back."

Hermione felt a similar smile tug at her own lips, a strange pull of muscles after so long without anything to smile for. She glanced around once more, saw nothing that caught her eye, and closed the door to the backyard. The small smile still on her face, she turned and followed Ron further into the house.

It was in the living room that she found the two men, both with their wands out as they pointed to bag after bag and enlarged them. Soon, the entire floor was covered with everything from books to food, and Hermione was glad that they'd shrunk all of the furniture the previous week and stored it in a closet.

Harry looked… well, bad was an understatement, though Hermione knew he would never admit to not eating or sleeping enough. That was Harry, and she'd long since realized that he would do what he needed to do, without thinking about himself first. Still, the dark circles under his eyes were starting to become dangerously dark, and his cheekbones hadn't been quite that sharp when she'd seen him three days before.

None of them had been happy about the task, but they had all agreed that someone needed to go out and get certain things. Harry had been the obvious choice; he was the best dueler of the three, and knew his way around Surrey better. Ron had been eager to go with him, but they knew one person could travel faster and hide more easily than two or three. And with the destination Harry was headed for, Diagon Alley, getting caught was definitely out of the question.

"The books over there are the ones you requested, Mione," he said, drawing her attention away from her thoughts and to the stack of dusty texts by the fireplace. "And I stopped at the store a few blocks over, got more food since we're nearly out," was said with a pointed look at the red-haired man trying to appear innocent as he pulled out the box with his name on it, sent from his mother to the Twins.

There was an envelope on the top of the box, so Ron broke the wax seal as Hermione flipped through her new books and Harry carried bags of food into the kitchen. "Mum says hullo," he said, loudly enough for Harry to hear. "She says the wedding is going to be on the fourteenth, but mum and dad want us there the day before." He dug around the box, searching for something, and grinned when he found it. "She sent cookies, too!"

"The Dursley's get home on the twelfth," Harry said, coming back in for another armful of bags. He caught the questioning look both of his friends sent him before he left the room again. "I called them from a public phone while I was in town," he explained, his voice carrying from the next room. "They're enjoying Majorca, and Vernon says the house better be in perfect shape when they get back."

Ron grumbled something under his breath about fat cousins and ignorant Muggles, but it was lost between the bites of cookies.

Hermione hefted her stack of books, balancing them on one hip. "Well, I think we should be out of here long before they get back, don't you think?" She paused, switching the books to her other hip for comfort. "We'd endanger them just by being in the same house, and, besides, I'm sure Mrs. Weasely won't mind having us an extra day." She moved out of the room, passing Harry as he came back in once more. "I'm going to go put these away, and we should probably start getting everything together. Today's already the ninth." With that, she vanished up the stairs, and the sound of the guest bedroom door closing echoed through the silent house.

Neither man moved for a long moment, waiting to be sure their friend didn't re-emerge. Then, as one, they glanced towards the back door. "Think we can get away with a quick duel?" Ron asked, voicing the question for both of them.

"Who cares? I've been wanting to perfect that wordless Disarming spell since before I left," Harry said, eyes lit up.

Cookies forgotten, Ron rose and followed Harry towards the backyard. "Just watch your slashing hexes this time," he said. "Hermione and I don't need matching scars, you know."

A light laugh, one of the few heard in the two weeks since school ended, drifted up to the window of the woman they were talking about, and she rolled her eyes as she glanced out the window. "Boys," she muttered under her breath. Then their Silencing and Notice-Me-Not charms went up and blocked out all sounds of spells and hexes, and Hermione turned back to her books.

* * *

Night fell and Four Privet Drive sank into the shadows, the windows dark. A simple Charm took care of light escaping from the glass, though there was very little of it in the house anyways. The only source of light came from the smallest bedroom, where the three teenagers sat around in a tight circle, focusing on the task before them. The room was a far cry from Harry's normal summer habitat; instead of robes and magazines scattered about, there were stacks of books covering every surface (except the bed, which had been spelled bigger and was currently straining to hold up three heavy school trunks), parchment and ink in neat little piles, and not a sign of a broomstick or Quidditch logo.

An area had been cleared at the foot of the bed, which is where the trio sat at the moment, backs hunched over dusty books and old newspapers. Between the three, in the center of their circle, was an area empty except for a golden locket and a small square of paper with writing on it. The writing was what the three were focused on, studying the words until they'd been memorized.

_To the Dark Lord_

_I know I will be dead long before you read this_

_but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret._

_I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can._

_I face death in the hope that when you meet your match,_

_you will be mortal once more._

_R.A.B._

"I'm beginning to wonder," Hermione said under her breath, one hand absently rubbing the scar on her cheek, the only sign she had from the battle at Hogwarts a few weeks before, "if this R.A.B. person wasn't a Death Eater at all." She put down her copy Notable Names of Nineteen Eighty-Two, and sighed. "I mean, maybe it's someone else altogether? Maybe the initials aren't a name, but a title of some kind?"

Ron groaned, putting down his own book. "You're not serious, right? You mean, start from scratch?"

"I just mean—

"Sirius! That's it!" Harry's voice cut Hermione's off as he slid his book off of his lap and quickly rummaged around a pile behind the desk chair, returning to the circle with a leather-bound tome in his hands.

Hermione blinked, perplexed at Harry's sudden excitement. "What good is Records of the Most Ancient House of Black going to… Oh." She sat back, eyes wide. "Why didn't I think of that?"

But Harry was too busy flipping through the end of the book to pay much attention. "Where is it, where is it?" he muttered to himself, scanning page after page. "He told me there was a copy of his family tapestry here, where is it? Ah ha!" he stopped, triumphant, on a page with dozens of tiny names connected by thin black lines.

"Um, Harry? 'Mione?" Ron looked between the two of them, confusion written all over his face. "Someone wanna let me know what's going on?"

It was Hermione who answered, as Harry was once more flipping through pages. "R.A.B… the last name Black clearly fits, and the Black family has always prided itself on being pure of blood, and aligned themselves with You-Know-Who." Hermione, once more, sounded like a textbook. She opened her mouth to continue, and was once more cut off by Harry.

"Here, I knew it was in here. Regulus Black." He bent over the book, eyes squinting to read the tiny text. "Sirius' brother, younger by a year, sorted into Slytherin, blah blah blah." He trailed off and looked up, grinning. Neither Hermione nor Ron shared his enthusiasm. "It must be him!"

"Harry," Hermione said, gently, "there must be hundreds of R.A.B.s out there, and it could have been any of them, maybe someone not in the Black family."

But Harry was shaking his head. "It is him," he said. "It's all coming together now… I don't know why I didn't think of it before. Regulus Black, Sirius was telling me about how he was a Death Eater, and he tried to back out, but Voldemort," he rolled his eyes as Ron and Hermione winced, "he killed him, instead, because once you join the Death Eaters there's no going back."

"But that doesn't explain how he knows about Horcruxes, Harry, let alone why he would have wanted You-Know—fine, Voldemort—why he wanted him to be mortal."

Harry was on a roll, now, eyes wide with hope for the first time in a while. "Yes, it explains everything! You weren't there, when Dumbledore," here, he paused over the name, breath catching in his throat, but he pushed on, "brought me to persuade Slughorn out of retirement. Slughorn started going off on how he'd wanted Sirius in his house, and he'd gotten Regulus when he entered, but he'd wanted the matched set. And if Regulus was in his stupid little Slug Club, couldn't he have learned about the Horcruxes, like Riddle did?"

Hermione caught on, now, "You do have a good point, Harry," she said. "There are so many things to consider though. How did Regulus find the Horcrux? Why didn't he know about the others, and think there was only this one? And where did it go? Did he destroy it, or is it hidden somewhere?"

They both fell silent, pensive, leaving Ron to look back and forth between the two of them with a mixture of surprise and, still, confusion. He glanced down at the locket and the paper once more, frowned, and looked back up.

"I have an idea," he said, tentatively. "The locket… I think I might know where it is."

Two sets of eyes were immediately focused on him, and Ron found himself flushing under their gaze.

"You remember cleaning Headquarters last year, and Mum made us clear out all of those room upstairs?" he asked. He got two affirmative, though impatient, nods. "Well, d'you remember all that junk we found? Loads of it, and most of it useless. Well… there was that gold locket we found, the one that nobody could open, in the Drawing Room. And I just thought… well, it's a long shot, but…"

He found himself with an armful of Hermione, who was hugging him tightly. "You, Ronald Weasely, are brilliant," she stated. "Now, where would that locket have gone? Could it still be in the house?"

Harry shook his head, "No, Dumbledore cleared the house out at the beginning of last summer, and he would have recognized the locket if he'd seen it."

"Then maybe it's still there?" Hermione suggested.

"Dumbledore wouldn't have let them leave a magical object in that house, when Death Eaters could get it."

Ron asked the question they were all thinking. "Then, where is it? Who else would have stuff from Headquarters? Especially something like that, a useless gold locket that you can't even open?"

"I know who has it," Harry said, standing and setting the book he still held on the desk. "Who else would have taken something like that? Someone who would sell it for a few sickles, for his own gain. Someone who was known to have stolen things from that house. Mundungus Fletcher."

 

 

 

Chapter Two

 

I know who has it," Harry said, standing and setting the book he still held on the desk. "Who else would have taken something like that? Someone who would sell it for a few sickles, for his own gain. Someone who was known to have stolen things from that house. Mundungus Fletcher."

* * *

Six years of knowing Harry Potter and being his best friends meant that Ron and Hermione knew, with only a quickly exchanged look, exactly what was about to happen. As though rehearsed, Ron was on his feet and blocking the door while Hermione stood and grabbed Harry's arm before he could move forward.

"Let me go!" he all but shouted, pulling against Hermione's grip and glaring at Ron. "We need to find that thief before he sells it!"

Hermione, always the voice of reason, gave one firm tug on his shirt sleeve to get his attention before speaking. "Listen to yourself, Harry!" she said. "You sound like a first year, off to save the world. You don't even know were Mundungus is, and besides, it's after midnight! Let's get some sleep now, you definitely need it, and in the morning we can send and owl to Professor McGonagall and see what she knows, alright?"

Ron moved from the door, swinging an arm around Harry's shoulders and guiding him to the bed. A flick of his wand, and the three trunk were levitating in the air before landing softly in the space the three teenagers had just occupied. "Wing- _gar_ -dium Levi- _o_ -sa, mate, haven't forgotten yet!" Both grinned, though Harry's was slightly dimmer, and Hermione made an exasperated noise from the bedroom door.

"Goodnight, Harry. Ron. And don't stay up too late," Hermione stated.

Ron sniggered and whispered "Yes, mum," under his breath while Harry, still smiling a bit, said, "G'night Mione," and climbed onto the bed. A whispered _Nox_ later, and the house plunged into darkness.

Green eyes stayed open, though, focused on the ceiling and the shadows of moonlight flickering across it, while his friend began to snore softly.

* * *

It came as no surprise that Harry, true Gryffindor, as usual, was up only a little after the sun rose, sitting at the desk and chewing on the end of a quill as he wrote the letter to McGonagall. By the time Ron was awake, his green eyes were focused on tying the post to Hedwig's leg. The owl gave a chirp, nipped his finger, and took off through the open window.

"Did you even sleep at all?" Ron asked, sitting up in bed but still not awake enough to stand.

He only needed Harry's silence for an answer, but the shake of his head confirmed it. "Can't. Nightmares, you know, didn't want to wake you up."

Ron sighed, pushed the covers back, and stretched his arms up over his head, making a content noise as the cracking of his spine echoed in the room. "Oh, that felt nice," he said, half to himself. He slowly, stood, stretching again and yawning, before finally turning to Harry to reply to his statement. "You need to sleep, mate. You're going to collapse on us someday, if you keep this up. Is the cauldron of Sleeping Draught done yet?"

Harry shook his head again, and stood from the chair. "Tomorrow, I think, it's gotta simmer for another ten hours or so, then we need to let it cool overnight. I'll check The Book after breakfast, though."

The book in mention, Harry's Potions text from the previous year, had been rescued on the last day of the previous school year. Even Hermione, as much as she disliked it, had to admit that it was dead useful, and they needed all of the help they could get. At the moment, thanks to the book and another of Hermione's brilliant ideas, there were four cauldrons of varying potions simmering in the attic of Four Privet Drive. The Sleeping Potion, the most difficult to make, was the only one Harry had done from start to finish. The other three were Hermione's: Pepperup, Wit-sharpening, and one that neither boy had figured out yet but gave off a smell not unlike copper and was very dark red in color.

Pushing any thoughts of Potions from their minds, Ron and Harry left the bedroom and followed the scent of bacon down to the kitchen, where Hermione was already awake and using her wand to scramble eggs and toast slices of bread. She'd taken it upon herself the first day of vacation to cook meals, claiming Molly Weasely had given her all sorts of tips on how to cook with magic, and neither boy could cook to save their lives. There was a kettle steaming happily on the stove, and Harry made a beeline for a mug of tea while Ron set the table.

They were like any normal family, Harry realized as he blew on the hot liquid in his cup, that they could have been any group of Witches and Wizards, up to enjoy just a normal day. He voiced this thought aloud and got a raised eyebrow from Hermione and a grin from Ron.

They sat down to eat, Ron digging enthusiastically into his small mountain of food, and any resemblance to normality vanished. Ron, between bites, _Accio_ 'ed a set of Muggle and Wizarding maps and spread them out on the table between their plates, using cups and mugs to weigh down the edges. Both maps were drawn all over, lines of black ink and scrawled words covering certain places, and arrows pointing to others.

"If that story the Prophet printed four days ago is correct," Ron said, swallowing a forkful of eggs, "then the Death Eaters are sticking mostly to London, and northwards. That's not our problem for now, though it's going to be if we go straight to Godric's Hollow from the Burrow." He tapped a circled point on the map, in Devon, and then another starred one between Glasgow and Edinburgh. "They getting closer to Hogwarts, little by little, so it's not going to be easy, especially since we can't Apparate there." That had been the biggest problem the trio had faced; as none of them had ever been to Godric's Hollow (except Harry, and he didn't remember), they had no idea _where_ they would be Apparating to.

Harry nodded, running a finger over the red dot that marked Hogwarts' approximant location (as it was Unplottable), and the small black dots that were scattered to the south, the location of Death Eater attacks. "What if we took Muggle transportation there? Better than flying, especially since Hermione can't stay on a broom very well," he ignored the dirty look he was sent, "and we can blend in more easily that way."

"That would work," Ron said, scratching something onto a corner of the map. "I'll get right on that, see if we can take the train and avoid any of the Death Eater hotspots. They haven't seriously attacked Muggle transportation, except for that bridge last year, but it's only a matter of time before they do."

That seemed to be the cue to end breakfast, and Harry pushed his plate aside, still half-full though he'd taken only a bit of eggs and some toast, and rose. "I'll get dishes today, Mione, if you could check on the Sleeping Draught for me?" At her nod, he took Ron's empty plate (and when had he managed to eat so much, in such a short time, while talking so much?) and the mugs, allowing his friend to roll the maps back up, and headed for the sink.

Hermione stood as well, taking her cup of tea with her, and headed up stairs to the attic. Harry waited for both of them to go, then rubbed a hand over his tired eyes and began flicking his wand at the dishes with a silent _Scourgify_ , practicing his wordless spells. He was getting better and better, and had mastered many of the easier spells, but several of the harder spells, like the Patronus, were proving difficult to master without speaking the words.

An owl flew in through the half-opened window over the sink, startling Harry and causing him to reflexively train his wand on the creature before realizing what it was. A moment of hope went through him when he saw that it was a white own, but was quashed when he realized it was just a news owl, with that day's copy of the Daily Prophet. He slipped a few knuts into its leg pouch and tossed the paper on the counter to read later. _I bet Hedwig hasn't even gotten to Hogwarts yet_ , he thought. _McGonagall won't write back until at least tomorrow_.

He finished the rest of the dishes and put them away, pocketed his wand, and headed upstairs to join Hermione in the attic.

The attic was dark, with only a few streaks of sunlight piercing the roof and boarded-up window, and filled with dust. Hermione and Ron had cleaned a great deal while he was gone, Harry noted, but he still sneezed as he walked up the rickety pull-down staircase. Hermione glanced up from her squinting over The Book and waved him to come closer.

"I can't read a thing in this book, Harry, I don't know how you do it," she said, idly stirring the Pepperup. "What's this part say, here?" She pointed to a corner of the page, where one of the final steps in making the potion has been crossed off.

It was hard to see in the dim light, and Harry almost had to press his nose against the paper to see it. "Um, looks like, 'sprinkle dried pepper in while stirring counter-clockwise, less steam results' I think, though it's a bit smudged," he said.

"Sounds right," she said. There was a moment of silence as she worked, and Harry moved around the cauldron to help her lift it off of the magical fire and set it gently on the floor. "Your Sleeping Draft needs nine hours still, to simmer, and the wormwood needs to be added in seven, followed by ten minutes of constant stirring. Then we leave it to sit overnight."

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry said. "But I came up here to see if you were interested in going to the back yard and working on that nonverbal Expelliarmus. And I'm hoping to try out that Blinding Hex from the Defense text."

Hermione put the ladle down and dusted off her jeans. "That sounds like a plan. Ron and I were planning to work more on the Anti-Disapparation Jinx, but he's immersed in War and Strategy, and Merlin forbid I stop him when he's reading a book on his own free will. Give me a moment to double check on something here, and I'll join you outside.

It took only a few minutes for Hermione to emerge from the house, and Harry had already fixed every protective spell he could think over the yard. It was an exhilarating feeling, using his magic over the summer holidays without getting a letter from the Ministry, and he used it to his every advantage, even though Hermione frowned on his illegal usage at first. 'You're almost seventeen, Harry, can't you wait another month?' she'd said at the beginning of the break. She didn't say anything anymore, knowing the severity of the situation, and knowing he was using her and Ron's legal magic to mask his own Defense practice, but he still caught her frowning in his direction occasionally.

"I was thinking," Hermione said as she kicked off her sandals and dug her toes into the grass, ignoring Harry's loud whisper of 'What else is new?', "that something is up with that Potion."

Harry shot a silent Jelly-Legs Jinx at her, which she easily blocked with a silent _Protego_ , before speaking. "Which Potion? That red one you're working on?" He almost missed her Bat-Bogey Hex, and grimaced at his distracted state, though he knew she was talking on purpose. They'd started using distractions during duels almost immediately, but Harry still had trouble, especially when he was tired.

"No," Hermione replied, trying to summon his wand and failing. "The potion that the locket was submerged in. _Expelliarmus_!" Her attempt at a verbal disarming spell was dodged.

Another nonverbal spell, _Rictusempra_ , was not avoided by Hermione. " _Finite Incantatem_ ," Harry said after a moment of watching her laugh from the tickling charm. "What about the Potion?"

"Well, I was thinking that it's not the original one, now, is it? _Flagrate_ ," she called. "Otherwise, how'd he get the locket out in the first place?"

A quick Flame-freezing Charm was cast, and Harry shrugged. " _Furnunculus_ , how did who get the locket out? Regulus Black?"

"Yes, him," Hermione said, stepping aside so the hex flew past her and hit one of Petunia Dursley's rose bushes. "Oh, we're going to have to fix that," she said, wincing at the boil-covered roses.

A silent spell was sent towards him, and Harry only had a moment to put a shield up before the streak of color hit him, and bounced off to hit a rabbit, Petrifying it. He returned it with a Leg-locker curse, before un-freezing the rabbit. "So, maybe he didn't drink it, then? Or maybe he put a new potion into the bowl, you think?"

" _Relashio_ ," Hermione replied. "Well, it was just a thought." She seemed content to drop the conversation, and Harry, easily distracted and not all that fond of being hit with a hex, didn't hesitate to comply. Hermione might have been onto something, but he didn't particularly see any use for knowing what Potion was there. All he knew was that it was deadly, and that was more than enough for him.

The backyard fell to silence for the next hour, occasionally punctured by spells that had not yet been mastered without words, and the occasional shout of pain, surprise, or laughter as a spell hit its target.

That was how Ron found them mid-morning. He emerged from the house with his strategy book under one arm (he'd turned out the be a genius at it, due probably to his chess skills), and the most recent Daily Prophet in his hands. The look on his face caused Harry and Hermione to stop their practice duel and pocket there wands as they joined him by the door.

"Don't suppose you've seen this yet, have you?" Ron held the paper out, folded around one story on the bottom of the first page. "They buried it beneath the announcement that Scrimgeour caught two more 'suspected Dark Wizards'. Look," and he handed the paper to Hermione to read out loud.

"Severus Snape Kills One Auror, Injures Others!" she read, pausing to gasp in shock. "Oh, my, this is horrible. Harry, it says they cornered him outside his home in a run-down Muggle town, and he killed one Auror and injured five more before vanishing once again."

Harry pulled the paper closer, so he could read along with her. "I can't believe this… _suspected of the murder of Albus Dumbledore_ , well of course he did it, and this just makes him more guilty, right?"

"But look at the end paragraph," Ron said. "The Auror he killed had threatened him, says one of the injured Aurors, and had drawn his wand to cast something-or-other on him, when Snape got him first. Says he threw him across the front yard, into a tree, and the force was so strong that it killed him. Doesn't sound much like a murderer… why didn't he kill the others, too, instead of just knocking them all out?"

"You're defending him?" Harry asked angrily. "That… that murderer? You're defending him?"

Ron raised both hands in defense, dropping the book he'd tucked beneath one of them. "I'm just pointing it out, Harry! It was strange, what happened, that's all. I don't like the greasy bastard anymore than you do, but even the Ministry will have to see that it was self-defense and accidental death, here."

All of the anger drained from Harry, and he sighed. "It's just too soon, and… he's an evil bastard. A murderer. He killed Dumbledore, I saw it with my own two eyes. Maybe he did kill that Auror on purpose, and just made it look like an accident.

"Or maybe," Hermione said, and suddenly both men were looking at her instead of the newspaper. "Maybe what you thought you saw isn't what really happened."

Silence followed that statement, before Ron spoke. "What do you mean by that, Mione?"

"I mean, what if Snape really is innocent."

Harry responded to this statement by dropping the paper at his feet and turning to stare, incredulous, at his friend. "You're joking, right?"

Ron nodded, just as shocked. "I mean, Snape did it, we know he did. Harry saw him shoot that Avada Kedavra, and there's Dumbledore, as much as we hate it, isn't alive still."

"Listen, just listen," Hermione insisted. She bent down and picked up the paper, smoothing it out and clearing her throat. " _The Auror report says that Snape seemed to know why the team was there before the Auror opened his mouth, "As though he'd read my mind!" team leader Nathan Brickholm told the Prophet_ ," she read. At their blank looks, she rolled her eyes and, taking on the pose both boys secretly called 'Lecture Mode'. "Snape is an accomplished Legilimens. So is Dumbledore. And Harry's told us every detail of that encounter, over and over. Dumbledore and Snape exchanged a look, and then Snape had that look of disgust and hate on his face? And Dumbledore was pleading with him."

"Where are you going with this, Hermione?" Harry asked, face white with the memory.

"Maybe you didn't see everything that was happening, Harry!" she said loudly. "That's what I'm saying. Isn't it possible that Snape and Dumbledore used Legilimency, and Dumbledore asked Snape to kill him? He was dying anyways, from that Potion, you said so yourself! And Snape was under that vow, remember? It makes so much sense!"

"You mean…" but Ron never finished that though.

"Yes, exactly. If Dumbledore knew he would die anyways, at least this way he kept Snape as a spy. He said he trusted Snape, always, no matter what he was confronted with." Hermione folded the paper, covering the story with Snape, and patted Harry on the arm. He'd closed his eyes, and was totally pale now. "I know you hate him, Harry, but could you really continue to hate him if he's innocent. This story in the paper just shows that maybe he's not the cold-blooded Death Eater that everyone thinks he is."

Harry shook her hand off and pushed past Ron. "I need to think," he said. "This is too much, too soon." He was in the house before either could respond or stop him.

Hermione made to follow, and Ron stopped her. "Let him go, 'Mione," he said. "He'll be fine. He's just been faced with the realization that the man he blames for murdering the Headmaster might be totally innocent. He needs time to think, alone. If he's not back downstairs by dinner, we'll go up and say something, okay?"

"Alright," she said, sadly. She glanced down at the paper in her hands and sighed, walking slowly behind Ron back inside.

 

 

 

Chapter Three

 

Four things of significance occurred on the eleventh of July, in Harry's mind, and resulted in the day being utterly boring on the whole. There were no extreme revelations, no new ideas turned up in their hunt for the Horcruxes. Instead, the day passed slowly, dragging by, as though the clock on the mantle was made of molasses. The fact that they day was hot and humid didn't help, and the house's air conditioning seemed to be struggling to keep up with the heat.

The first notable thing to happen was Hedwig's return. This caused a small flurry of activity when she almost landed in Hermione's glass of cola during lunch, until they realized that she had no reply from the new Headmistress of Hogwarts. Unsure as to what this meant, Harry gave her a bit of crust from his sandwich and some water, then carried her up to his room to rest in her cage for a while.

The second thing that happened— or rather, didn't— was the Daily Prophet's complete lack of anything of interest. Not even a suspected Death Eater sighting showed up, and any news of Snape or anything else was suspiciously absent. Ron immediately pointed out that the Death Eater's were up to something, though none of them had a clue where to begin looking for answers.

By the time dinner rolled around, Harry had determined that the day couldn't drag out any more. He was proven wrong, much to his dismay, when Hermione declared they were leaving tomorrow morning for the Burrow, and the entire house needed to be returned to normal and all of their belongings packed up. Four long hours were spent gathering up all of the books and papers scattered in just about every room of the house, organizing them under Hermione's strict gaze, and shrinking them down to put into already bursting school trunks. By the time the trunks, too, were shrunk down and covered with a charm to make them lighter, the midnight hour had come and gone, and the furniture in the house had been enlarged and put back to normal. By one-thirty in the morning, the three teenagers were done, and practically collapsed into bed.

It was as Harry's eyes were struggling to stay open and he was uncorking the vial of Sleeping Potion (which had been completed that morning), that the fourth significant event occurred. As the glass touched his lips, fierce pains ripped through his skull. He cried out at the unexpected shock and burning, and dropped the vial to the ground, vaguely aware of it shattering on the wooden floorboards. As quickly as it had started, the pain stopped, leaving Harry gasping and dry-retching over the side of the bed. He felt the bed shift, felt Ron patting him on the back and helping him to lie back against the headboard, and could hear the door open as Hermione burst in, worried. All traces of pain fled as numbness took over, and Harry slumped in Ron's arms.

"Voldemort," he said, voice tight, "is really unhappy about something. Bloody hell, that hurt." He passed out a moment later, forehead scrunched with the memory of pain and his scar red and raw-looking.

* * *

Hermione was hesitant to wake Harry up the next morning. Despite the events of that night, he looked infinitely better after having gotten a full night's sleep. Still, they needed to go before the Dursley's got home, whenever that would be; none of the three had any desire to encounter Vernon and Petunia Dursley, not to mention their whale of a son. She shook his shoulder lightly, making sure her voice was cheerful when she said "Wake up, Harry, breakfast is ready", and found herself on the receiving end of a wand, a curse ready on Harry's lips. He blinked, realized who it was, and set the wand on the bedside table with a sigh.

"Morning," he said, yawning.

As though it were an everyday occurrence to have a wand pointed in her face, Hermione simply smiled and returned the greeting. At least, she noted, his reflexes had improved and he wasn't so each to catch off-guard. She repeated her previous statement, thrust a mug of coffee in his hands, and left him to dress for the morning.

He came down several minutes later, still sipping slowly at the hot drink, and slid into a chair with a groan. "I don't know where you found coffee in this house, Hermione," he said with another yawn, "but this is fantastic."

"Coffee?" Ron sounded scandalized. "You're British, mate! Tea is practically our national beverage!"

There was another groan, this time of thanks as Hermione levitated the coffee pot over to the table. "Tea's all good and well," he said, blowing on the steam and contemplating adding sugar, "but the Caffeine level in this stuff beats tea any day. Even if the taste is appalling."

Even Ron couldn't argue with that, and they settled down to breakfast without any further talk until the Daily Prophet was delivered. The tension level in the room rose noticeably, as Hermione tried to remain calm while she scanned the paper for any signs of death or attack. They'd avoided mentioning it so far, but it was the unspoken rule that Harry's scar hurting equaled Bad Things. Therefore, it was with great confusion and relief that Hermione set the paper back down on the table, folded perfectly.

"Nothing," she stated. "Not a thing. I don't suppose…" but she trailed off, not sure what to say.

Harry finished his second mug, tossed the remains of the orange he's been dissecting into the bin, and rubbed his forehead. "Even a failed attempt at something should have made the papers. It doesn't make sense, I guess. It hasn't hurt badly in months, and now it bursts into extreme pain suddenly, and nothing happens. I mean, it's not that I'm thankful, it's just, you know."

"Yeah, we know. Too weird, mate. Hope for the best, though? Maybe it was nothing." Ron didn't sound so sure, but it didn't matter. They knew that something had happened, and that whatever it was wouldn't result in anything good. Someone had been punished for failing, or something had gone wrong, and Voldemort would retaliate sooner or later.

Silence fell once more, until Hermione clapped her hands and rose. "Well, we should get going then, right? Ron, you're sure that we're all going to be able to Apparate straight into your garden? I don't want to hit any wards and end up splinched somewhere in the middle of Devon. And hopefully Mrs. Weasley doesn't hex us the moment we appear; we are a day early, after all." She spoke quickly, trying to fill the uncomfortable quiet.

She summoned their trunks to the kitchen, Ron's almost hitting him in the head as it flew into the room, and levitated their dishes away, cleaning them with a quick flick of the wrist. By the time Harry had slipped his trunk, now the size of a deck of cards, into his pocket, the kitchen was as spotless as the rest of the house. The sound of a car pulling into the driveway startled all of them, and they smiled before Apparating away, thankful to be gone before having to face the Dursley's.

After a long moment of blackness and pressure squeezing in on all sides of him, Harry found himself spit out into bright sunshine and dew-covered grass. Ron appeared a few feet away, followed only a split-second later by Hermione. He shuddered, shaking off the feeling of being bound and unable to breath, and followed Ron up to the front door of the house. His friend knocked, and there was a long period before a suspicious voice called out from the other side.

"Who's there," came the distinctive voice of Molly Weasley.

"It's me mum, Ron," came the reply.

Another moment followed, then another suspicious question filtered through the wooden door. "How do I know it's you?" she asked. "I know… how many posters of the Cannons do you have on your wall?"

Ron didn't even hesitate before saying, "Seven, mum, and it would have been eight except Fred blew up the one commemorating the championship win of 1982." He sounded very bitter at this reminder. "Can we come in now, please?"

"Of course, dear," she said, opening the door wide enough to usher all three teenagers into the house. "Sorry, you know how your father is about security, and I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow morning at the earliest." Her voice dropped a bit, and she added, "Don't tell your father that I didn't make you ask me a question, alright? Now," her voice went back to normal, and she focused on each young adult in turn. "You all look good, I'm happy to see, though much too thin, all of you. Come inside and we'll catch up. You missed breakfast, but I can heat you something up if you'd like."

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look as Ron grinned happily and headed for the kitchen. "Nothing's changed here," Hermione murmured.

"Nope," Harry agreed. It was a nice feeling, knowing that the stability of the Weasley house hadn't changed at all. They followed Ron at a slower pace, entering the kitchen to find Mrs. Weasley in full mother-hen mode, putting a stack of waffles in front of her youngest son.

"Now, how have you three been since the f… since school got out, then? You've changed so much, it seems as though it's been months instead of just a couple of weeks." She tugged gently on one of Hermione's curls that came to a stop just below her ear. "And you cut your hair, darling, it's a nice change."

Hermione shrugged. "It was too long, kept getting in my eyes when we dueled," she said, and Mrs. Weasley frowned, changing subjects immediately. All three of them knew Molly's views on their training; she wasn't happy that they were the ones who had to train, and fight in the end, and she'd made the usual protests about Aurors and the Ministry and how they were too young, but in the end she'd accepted it and moved on.

"Well, then," she dusted her hands on her skirt. "Are you two hungry? You look like you aren't eating enough, certainly, and you," she turned on Harry, who squirmed under her gaze, "you look horrible, young man, much too thin and pale. We'll put some meat on those bones while you're here, mark my words."

"We've already had breakfast, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, politely. "But thank you."

"So polite. I've told you to call me Molly, Harry, and I wish you would." She returned to fluttering about the kitchen, pouring Ron a glass of juice and motioning the still standing teens to have a seat. "Well, it will be nice to have you two here tomorrow morning," she said. "So much to do to set it up, and three more sets of hands will make a difference. You should see Fleur's dress, she's such a darling in it, and with Great-Auntie Muriel's tiara, well… she's going to make Bill very happy."

"How is Bill?" Ron asked, pushing his now empty plate aside. "Doing better?"

Molly nodded. "Much better, he's up and about as though the whole thing never happened. That's our Bill, though. He's been back and forth between here and Gringott's like a madman every day, helping them out in his free time, you know."

Footsteps on the stairs were heard, and the youngest Weasley stuck her head through the door seconds later, a smile on her face. "Harry! Ron, Hermione! I thought I heard voices from down here!" She seemed pleased to see Harry, her eyes lingering over his face, though he did all that he could to avoid meeting her gaze. "Are you here for long?"

"Nah," Ron answered. "We'll stay for Bill and Fleur's wedding, then we've got somewhere to be."

This seemed to disappoint Molly and Ginny both, though it was Molly who tried to persuade them otherwise. "Surely you can stay for a while longer, Ron? Maybe a week after the wedding, at the very least? It can't hurt, now, can it, and you brothers and father would be glad to see you again."

But Ron seemed set, glancing at his two best friends and sharing a small nod with them. "We need to get some things done, mum. We'll be back, I'm sure, maybe even again before the end of the summer."

Ginny squirmed on her seat, mouth firmly clenched shut, as though afraid that what she wanted to say would burst out and she was trying to stop it. Her mother noticed and the infamous Weasley temper appeared. "Ginerva Weasley, don't even think about it?"

"But, mum, I'm almost sixteen. I can help them!"

Ron and Harry seemed rather startled by this outburst, and Hermione had an amused look in her eyes, though she managed to keep her face composed. "Ginny," Harry said, trying to calm the situation, "you need to go back to Hogwarts this fall with the rest of the students. It's not safe, where we're going."

"Safe enough for you three," came the prompt reply, followed by, "And besides, you're not even sure if the school's going to reopen at all. And even if it does, why do I need to go there and you don't?"

Ron glared at his younger sister. "You're too young!" he exclaimed. "You can't even Apparate yet!"

"Not a good idea, Ron," Hermione said in a loud whisper that Ginny, growing as red as her hair and practically radiating anger, failed to hear.

"Too young?" she cried. "I'm sixteen, you prat! You lot were off on all sorts of adventures long before you were sixteen. And Harry's still sixteen, too!"

"Ginny," Harry cut in, voice calm. "Ginny, just—

But she was gone, storming out of the room in a blur of fiery hair. Her bedroom door slammed loudly a moment later, leaving the kitchen silent.

"Way to go, Ron." Hermione glared at him, then shot a look to Molly and Harry. "I'll go take care of this and calm her down," she said, heading for the stairs.

She brushed past a familiar blond on her way out. "What eez going on?" Fleur said curiously, not noticing Ron straightening abruptly in his seat. She did notice Harry, though, leaning lightly against the kitchen table. "Oh, 'allo 'Arry, I deed not see you zere."

"Fleur," Harry nodded in greeting. "How are you doing?"

"Oh, I am _très bien_ , very good," came the enthusiastic reply. "We 'ave been so beesy here, preparing for ze big day! But you are so early, 'ave you come to help? Zere is so much to do."

Ron smoothed back his hair and pushed his chair back. "Sure, we'll help you out," he said.

Molly gave him a look and motioned them out of the room. "Of course they're here to help, darling," she said sweetly to Fleur. Harry was surprised at how much they had bonded in the last few weeks, but he put it down to Bill's injury and Fleur's support for him. "In fact," now her eyes moved to Ron, and the look she gave him was definitely not sweet, "they were just going to go upstairs to put their things away before going into the back yard to help Arthur and the twins. Weren't you?"

Harry smiled and grabbed Ron's arm. "Of course, Molly, we'll just head upstairs for a few moments to put our things down and grab Hermione, and then we'll be in the backyard if you need us," he said, dragging a protesting Ron out of the room.

 

 

 

Interlude

 

_March 1980. Spinner's End._

"You have to help me."

It's said in a tone that begs for aid of any sort. Severus has never heard anything even resembling 'begging' coming from Regulus Black, and knows he probably never will again.

"And why," he sneers, "Do you think that I will help with this... this suicide mission of yours?"

Regulus slumps back in his chair and focuses his eyes on the shelf of books behind Severus' head. The room is small, and lined with shelves, though most are empty. Severus dreams of a day when the house will be filled with books on Dark Arts and Potions, so full that the door to the bedroom itself must become a bookshelf. Someday, perhaps. For now, though, he has other things on his mind.

"What do you want the potion for, Black?" he asks, his tone as cruel and cold as it is when he speaks to the teenager's older brother. Thankfully, at least this one is tolerable.

Regulus is silent. "Do you remember," he says finally, "when we were in school? You were seventh year, I was sixth. It was the night before Halloween, and we were in the common room with that fourth year, whatever her name was?"

Severus doesn't reply. He remembers that night all too well, and knows what Regulus will ask of him.

"You made a Vow to me, Severus. There is an Unbreakable Vow between us. You oblivated that girl, afterwards, sent her on her way, but I still remember even if she doesn't." He takes a moment, breathing deeply. "You swore that you would help me if my life ever depended on it. I vowed to do the same. A bond between the best of friends, and one that cannot be broken."

A sigh fills the tiny front room of Severus' house on Spinner's End. "It is that important that I make you this potion? So important that you hold me to a vow made while we were both still in school, a vow made in during a friendship that did not last after I graduated and we went our separate ways?"

"Yes."

"Fine. I'll make you your potion. This had better be worth it, though."

When Regulus speaks, it is barely heard. "It's worth everything I once thought I believed. It's worth it to save the world from a madman who strives for immortality. If this works, he won't know it was me until it's too late."

Severus doesn't reply, just opens the door and waits for his former friend to leave, then moves to his room to start on the emerald-coloured potion.

 

 

 

Chapter Four

 

Harry put as much weight as he could on his back foot, hefted the load in his arms, and spun, flinging the bundle over the fence. A moment later, he heard a dull _thud_ and grinned, looking around for his next victim.

De-gnoming the garden probably wasn't the most fun thing he'd ever done, but it was entertaining enough. He laughed as Ron's gnome began to try to bite him, and the redhead finally resorted to using a spell to lift it up and toss it over. Hermione sat with Ginny, who had finally calmed down and joined them, though she was pointedly ignoring Ron. The two girls were drinking lemonade in the shade of a big tree and watching the men do all the hard work. Arthur was in and out of the house, working on conjuring chairs from thin air and transfiguring anything possible to create the rest; apparently, they were expecting a big crowd.

Percy had arrived only an hour after the three teenagers and had, much to the annoyance of the rest of the family, immediately started bragging about his new job, working with the new Minister. Ron had almost thrown a hex at him when he'd turned his back, and only Hermione's glare had stopped him. Harry had merely sighed at his arrival and slipped his wand back in his pocket, knowing that Percy would report him without hesitation if he was caught using underaged magic. While the magic of the Weasleys' house would mask his magical signature, he knew he couldn't risk the Minister finding out. It was bad enough that Percy had sent an owl off to Scrimgeour the moment he laid eyes on Harry; the Ministry was not happy that they had no idea where he was.

Still, little by little, the backyard began to look nicer and nicer. Hermione and Ginny went inside to help Molly cook for the dozens of guests that were expected, while the Twins, who had arrived shortly after lunch (a quick meal of sandwiches before going back to work), took to flinging decorations about and setting the blinking fairy lights throughout the area. By the time dinner arrived, the backyard was ready to go.

The next day was spent with much frantic rushing about. Bill showed up mid-morning with dress robes hanging over one arm, bringing news that Fleur and her parents and sister would be arriving just after dinner. Fleur had Apparated back home for the days before the wedding, much to Bill's disappointment (and Ron's as well). The news sent Molly into another flurry of activity as every available hand (except Bill's, who was to "sit back and relax, and let everyone else do the work") was put to cleaning. Harry, Hermione, and Ginny moved into Ron's room for the night, leaving Ginny's room free for Gabrielle, and Charlie's old room was fixed up as a guest room for Fleur's parents.

Dinner passed quickly and quietly, and the family gathered around the fireplace afterwards to welcome the Delacours. Fleur appeared first in the floo, grinning and wrapping her arms around Bill. Gabrielle came next, dusting herself off and waving cheerfully to Harry, who smiled and waved back and ignored Ginny's glare. Fleur's parents arrived only seconds apart, both tall and blond, with traces of Veela clearly visible. Fleur's mother ("call me Vianne") had kissed everyone on the cheek before vanishing into the kitchen with Molly, while her father, Henri, followed Arthur, Percy, and Bill to the couch to talk. Fleur and Bill disappeared before too long (with a shared look from Vianne and Molly, though neither said anything), and Gabrielle was shown to Ginny's room shortly after that. The four remaining teenagers, with nothing to do and a big day before them, dragged themselves up the stairs.

"I think I'd have taken the Dursley's over this, mate," Ron said later that night, flopping down on his bed. Ginny and Hermione glanced up from their makeshift beds in the corner (Ginny had protested heavily at having to sleep in Ron's room, until it was pointed out that subjecting the guests to the bright orange walls was not going to happen), both frowning for a moment.

"We're helping your brother and his fiancée prepare for the happiest day of their lives, Ron," Hermione stated. "Surely two days of work isn't too much to ask for? Besides, it's not like you've been doing much work! Look at Harry, having to do everything by hand while you just wave your wand everywhere."

Harry sighed at this reminder. "Only 'cause Percy's here," he mumbled. "Though, your mum's far better than Aunt Petunia, no doubt about it. And we don't have to cook!"

"You're not a bad cook, Harry, when you try," Hermione pointed out.

Harry made a face. "Sure, I can _cook_ ," he said. "But so could you if you'd been making meals for your relatives for years. Doesn't matter, though, I hate doing it and you wouldn't believe how many times I've burned bacon. Aunt Petunia always cooked the important meals herself, so Vernon's guests wouldn't get poisoned or whatever, especially after the Aunt Marge incident."

"The Aunt Marge incident?" Ginny asked. Clearly, she hadn't heard this story yet, and she leaned forward, eager to find out what had happened.

Ron laughed and stretched out on his bed. "Oh, I remember that one. Blew up your aunt, yeah? During supper, over the summer before third year, right?" Harry laughed as well, remembering the look on Marge's face as she'd expanded.

"Ron! Harry! You two shouldn't laugh at something like that. What if she'd been hurt?" Hermione cried. "You two, honestly. You're so immature." She turned to Ginny and drew her back into their conversation that Ron had interrupted.

"Immature?" Ron snorted. "She needs to lighten up. What do you suppose they're talking about, anyway?"

Harry rolled his eyes, yawned, and turned over on his pallet of blankets. "Girl things, I expect," he said. He took off his glasses, setting them on the floor next to him. "I'm tired, and I bet your mum's gonna wake us early tomorrow. Night, Ron."

"Yeah," Ron agreed, sullenly. He flicked his wand at the light and whispered _Nox_ , ignoring the annoyed shouts from the two girls, and laid down. "Night, Harry."

* * *

The morning of the wedding dawned with clear blue skies, much to Molly's delight, and the entire household woke up to the scent of pastries cooking and the sound of humming from the kitchen. Charlie Apparated in before the meal was over and pulled up a chair to join in. By the time everyone had finished eating (Ron and Charlie battling to see who could eat the most, to Harry's amusement and Hermione's disgust), Bill had vanished up to his rooms with Arthur and Henri, and Fleur had been tucked away in the guest bedroom until the start of the wedding. Hermione and Ginny pulled Gabrielle up to Ginny's room with giggles and mentions of dress robes, leaving the Weasley males and Harry to sit at the table and squirm at the thought of dressing up.

"The first guests won't even arrive for another hour or two," Charlie pointed out, speaking for them all. "Why in Merlin's name are they going to get ready now?"

"Girls," Fred and George said at the same time, rolling their eyes.

* * *

At 11:42, the floo flared to life and the tired form of Remus Lupin stepped into the sitting room of the Burrow. Harry, who had been playing a game of chess with Ron and trying not to wrinkle his dress robes, immediately jumped to his feet to greet his surrogate godfather.

"Harry," Remus grinned, wrapping an arm around him. "You're looking well. How's your summer been so far?"

Ron squirmed, watching the two talk, and shared a look with Harry. Neither had planned on telling their former professor about their summer activities, but there seemed to be no way around it, short of lying. "It's been fine," he said. "We've just been, you know… doing stuff."

Remus opened his mouth to question what kind of 'stuff' they'd been doing, but was interrupted by Bill as he walked in the room.

"Remus, you're here earlier than I expected," he said, shaking his hand in welcome. "Thanks for coming. Do you have a minute now, to talk?"

The werewolf shot a look at Harry that clearly said 'we'll talk later', then nodded. "Sure, let's go into the backyard. I could use a bit of fresh air."

As soon as they left the house, Ron glanced at Harry, winked, and pulled out two of the long white cords that he'd taken to carrying in his pocket. "Knew these would come in handy soon," he said. "Here, the twins improved on their Extendable Ears again."

They unrolled the ears, creeping a bit closer to the backyard to catch the conversation.

"…turned two kids last week." It was Remus talking, and both boys could hear worry in his voice. "Killed another three up in Lancaster, all Muggles. The Ministry hasn't heard about any of this yet, he's keeping quiet for some reason, not advertising his kills like he usually does.'

"And he doesn't suspect you yet?" Bill's voice was just as worried.

"No, not yet, luckily. I don't think he caught my scent at the Hogwarts Attack because of all the blood. But he's definitely still with the Dark Lord, and whatever he's being offered for keeping quiet for now, it must be big. Fenrir's even ordered us not to attack anyone on the full moon next week. Something's up, I just don't know what."

They could hear Bill sigh. "I wish I could help, in some way."

"You know why you can't, Bill," Remus said. "You don't change, so you're vulnerable. If Fenrir ever finds out that you're still alive, he'll come after you to finish the job. Besides, you're about to be a married man. Relax and enjoy it while you still can, while things are quiet." There was a moment of silence, then, "How have you been doing, by the way?"

"Still craving meat," Bill said with a small laugh. "Eyesight has improved a bit, and hearing and scent. I'm just lucky the scars aren't too visible, though Fleur thinks they're sexy."

Ron made a face at this and rolled up his ear before he could listen to any more. Harry laughed and did the same, pocketing the string and returning to the couch. The chess game was long-since forgotten.

"The papers didn't say anything about children being turned or killed," Ron said, surprised. "How would the Daily Prophet not report something like that?"

Harry shrugged, fiddling with a pawn. "You heard Remus," he said. "Muggle children. Maybe we should start reading Muggle papers whenever we can, see what they say that the Prophet doesn't."

"More reading?" Ron made a face, though they both knew it was mostly for show. He'd been reading more and more often, as of late, now that he had a role to play. "Hermione will know how to get one for us, where ever we go."

There was a long moment of silence as neither knew what to say. By the time Remus and Bill walked back in, the two were once more focused on the chess game, though their enthusiasm was half-hearted at best. Remus took no notice of this and sat down on the arm of a chair, facing the two teens.

He waited until Harry had made his next move before speaking. "So, how's your summer been so far, boys?"

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance that didn't go unnoticed by either Remus or Bill, who had taken up a spot on the edge of the table in the center of the room. "It's been okay," Ron finally said, answering for the both of them. "The Dursleys weren't around while we were there, so we just… hung out."

"Hung out?" An eyebrow rose at this statement. "Why do I find it hard to believe that you three didn't do anything at all these past couple of weeks?" Remus was smiling slightly as he spoke, though it was clear that he didn't quite believe them.

Harry shrugged, and moved one of his pawns forward, focusing his attention on the game so he wouldn't have to look his surrogate godfather in the eye. "We really didn't do much, Remus," he said. "Watched telly a bit, Hermione read a lot and kept us in line. We played Muggle football in the back yard a few times, though Ron kept using his wand to cheat."

"Did not, mate!" Ron replied, attempting to appear appalled. He'd quickly caught on to Harry's lies. "Besides, you won _loads_ of times!"

"And you didn't use your wand to retaliate, Harry?" Bill asked, speaking up for the first time.

Harry blinked and looked up, managing to school his features into perfect surprise and innocence. "I'm not seventeen for weeks yet, you know that!" he said.

Bill shrugged and said nothing more, though Harry wondered if he knew or just suspected. Remus was giving them all an odd look, now, and Harry mentally cursed the older Weasley for mentioning it.

"This game is scrapped," he proclaimed after another long stretch of silence. "And we'd better go get our robes on, Ron. It's almost noon, now, and people will be arriving any moment."

The two teens rose, shot a grin at the older men, and hurried upstairs to change into their dress robes.

* * *

By half-past one, the Burrow was crowded with dozens of people, and the backyard was filled with more, many crowded around the buffet table that Molly was keeping well stocked with the help of Ginny and Hermione. Both women had emerged from their rooms shortly after noon with Gabrielle Delacour, and had spent much of the time since then talking together and glancing around at the wedding celebrations. Ron had turned an unhealthy shade of red when Hermione had made a comment about how she couldn't wait for her own wedding. Ginny had shot Harry a look, which he had ignored as he turned to talk to Gabrielle.

The noise in the room escalated when the floo flared to life once more (it had been non-stop green for a while, as guests poured in), and Minerva McGonagall stepped into the room, brushing soot from her robes. She was quickly surrounded by guests, many of whom were former Gryffindors and friends of Bill's from school, who came to say hello. A few were Order members, and the trio exchanged a look at this.

Finally, the crowd around her died down. Harry approached her quickly before she could get wrapped up in a conversation with someone else, and held out his hand in greeting. "Professor," he said. "How are you doing?"

McGonagall shook his hand, a look of sadness and worry flitting over her face for a moment before she controlled it. "Mr. Potter, good to see you again. I'm doing well, though the stress of working on the wards at the school has been taxing, I'm afraid."

"Then Hogwarts will re-open in September?" Ron asked, sliding up beside his friend.

His former professor nodded. "It will be announced in the paper tomorrow that the school is undergoing re-warding. While it is most likely that Hogwarts will open its doors once again this fall, the decision still must pass through the Ministry's council. However, I have no worries that their vote will be in favour." She opened her mouth to say something, but Harry saw the question in her eyes and shook his head quickly.

"Before you ask, no, I will not be returning to Hogwarts this fall," Harry said. "Though I hope that you will welcome us if we stop by for an occasional visit, Professor?"

"We shall see, Mr. Potter."

"And…" he hesitated, glancing around at the crowd that surrounded them. "Did you ever receive that owl I sent you, ma'am?"

"I did, Harry." She seemed to thaw slightly, her stern look fading. "And, while I understand why you are asking, I—

A shower of golden fireworks lit up overhead, the signal that the ceremony was beginning, and cut off what she was about to say.

"We shall continue this discussion afterwards," McGonagall said. "Find me following the ceremony and I shall answer your questions." She left without looking back, leaving Harry confused and a bit disappointed.

The trio slowly followed the crowds towards the rows of chairs that had been set up, slipping into their reserved seats just as Bill, with Charlie standing next to him, took his position under the canopy that had been set up. There was a dull murmur surrounding the guests, which vanished as music suddenly filled the air from an unknown source.

All heads turned to the house, where curtains had been set up to hide Fleur from the guests (and her husband-to-be, of course). Now, the curtains parted and Gabrielle emerged, walking slowly up the aisle. A moment's pause followed before the curtains parted again, and Fleur emerged with her father at her side. There was a gasp from nearly every male in the room (and Harry had to elbow Ron in the ribs to keep him from drooling).

"Look at those dress robes," Hermione whispered excitedly to Ginny, who was sitting next to her. "And that tiara is beautiful." Ron gave her an incredulous look that said 'look at what's _wearing_ the dress robes', and Ginny just nodded, watching as the part-veela passed them. Fleur was ignoring everyone in the yard except Bill, who smiled and took her hand as she joined him.

The ceremony was short and to the point. The couple exchanged rings and vows, then held out their joined left hands and the bonding spell was chanted over the metal bands they now wore. When the light surrounding the rings faded, the wizard overseeing the ceremony said his last line. "You may kiss the bride". Bill and Fleur were instantly in each others arms, and there was a soft "awww" from the crowd as they kissed. Harry noticed Hermione wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, and Ginny was almost as emotional.

The bride and groom, hands still joined, walked back down the aisle, followed by their guests, who quickly assembled around the table where a large cake sat. All too soon, the cake was cut and devoured, the twins had turned half a dozen guests into canaries, and the sun was starting to drift towards the horizon.

"Thank you all for coming," Bill shouted, setting off sparks from his wand to get everyone's attention. "I'm glad that you all could be here today, to share in our happiness. Before I whisk Fleur away for our honeymoon, we both just wanted to thank you all for making this the happiest day of our life."

Fleur joined him, curling into his side. She placed a hand on the white rose that Bill had pulled from the front of his robes, and said " _Au revoir, et merci beaucoup!_ " before the couple vanished as the portkey activated.

The guests began to trickle out, and Harry stood for a moment, glancing around, before pushing off from the tree he had been leaning against during Bill's short speech and making his way through the crowd to where McGonagall stood waiting.


End file.
